


Beautiful When You’re Zealous

by aralias



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Established Relationship, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blake's Incredible Sexiness, Despite the other tags, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Explicit Consent, I like to think it is still relatively lulzy though, M/M, Prostitution, Roleplay, Season/Series 02, this fic was more lulzy in my mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-16 00:10:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1324396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias/pseuds/aralias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“Avon, are you asking me to</i> roleplay myself?”// An apparently good idea goes wrong. Twice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful When You’re Zealous

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://b7-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/351.html?thread=111711#t111711) on the B7 kink meme. I thought this was going to be a short one, but they never are anymore. 
> 
> This fic is definitely in conversation with a whole ream of Old School fics, but you don't have to have read anything particular in order to get anything I've written about here. I don't think Avon is this interested in being dominated, but I really wanted to do this prompt :D
> 
> x_los betaed for sense; all grammar and spelling mistakes are mine own.
> 
> Also - you know how some of my fics that are m/m explicit also have a plot? Well, this one doesn't.

The first problem was that Blake was incredibly sexy when he was angry. The second problem was that after two weeks of being in a committed relationship with Blake, Avon had begun to think of Blake’s sexiness as something that belonged to him and that he should benefit from, if at all possible. Blake was passionate in bed, and he was kind, and he made wicked jokes at Avon’s expense – not necessarily most people’s ideal trait in a sex partner, but Avon didn’t like to think of himself as ‘most people’ and enjoyed mocking Blake in turn. Additionally, Blake’s sense of humour and his give-as-good-as-he-got attitude had been one of the things that had first attracted Avon to him, and it would have been a shame to have lost that just because they were sleeping together now. It was important to Avon that anyone he had sex with remained themselves, and Blake remained amusing and clever and very, very sexy.

But he had never yet been angry – in bed, anyway. He continued to be angry on the flight deck when things weren’t going his way, and each time it happened Avon found himself more distracted by the determined jut of Blake’s chin, the strength of his voice, and the tight control he was forced to exert over every part of his body to stop himself trembling with fury. God help him, even the way Blake’s nostrils flared made Avon’s knees weak and his cock ache.

So it was that Avon leaned over one night as they lay in the dark together and murmured, “You know, I used to masturbate every time we had an argument,” against Blake’s ear.

They had had a good day by Liberator standards. Nothing had gone horribly wrong, and Blake had discovered Avon reading alone on the observation deck just after lunch. The book had been a good one, so it had taken about a minute to convince Avon to put down his datapad and let Blake suck him off instead. That had been nice. Then Blake had encouraged him to return the favour and very eloquently, which had been even better. Then they’d lain together comfortably for a while, until Avon’s back had started to ache and Blake had decided he should probably get back to work. The only problem with this turn of events was that Blake had claimed to be very tired by the time it came to turn in for the night. So far all they’d done in bed tonight was lie in it.

“I didn’t know, but it explains a great deal,” Blake’s voice said in the darkness next to him.

“Does it?” Avon asked, deliberately coy.

“Why you were so often late for teleport duty, for one thing,” Blake said. It sounded as though he was smiling, and when Avon ran his fingers over Blake’s cheek he found a confirmatory dimple around Blake’s lips. “And why you used to storm off the flight deck so often,” Blake said, opening his lips and biting quickly at the tip of Avon’s finger before he could withdraw it. “I’m afraid we all thought you’d gone off in a huff.”

That was clearly intended to bait him, but Avon could ignore one or two digs from Blake in the service of a more important goal.

“If only you’d known,” he said, sliding up onto Blake’s body, “that what I was actually doing was locking myself in the nearest cupboard and wanking furiously to the idea of you losing your temper, throwing me over the nearest available surface and fucking some obedience into me.”

“Yes,” Blake said, rather thickly. He shifted underneath Avon, but not yet in a way that was of any use. “That, ah, does put a different spin on things.”

“Touching myself,” Avon continued, “thinking of you. All the while knowing that you were probably waiting for me to come back so we could go on whatever mission you wanted me to go on.” He pushed his hips down against Blake’s so Blake would feel how aroused he was, even talking about this, and heard Blake’s breath catch and felt the beginnings of Blake’s erection pushing back. So, it was getting to him too. That was good. In the short term this discussion could easily be turned into sex proper, and there were definite uses he could put it to the long term. Avon began rocking his hips gently against Blake, rubbing them both off on each other.

“Presumably,” he said, kissing Blake’s lips, “you would be getting angrier and angrier that I was taking so long to get ready. I imagined a few times that you might decide to come looking for me, and would find me there with my cock in my hand, wasting time that should be spent on the revolution simply pleasing myself.”

“Yes,” Blake breathed in a way that suggested he wasn’t quite paying attention to the conversation any more. “ _Avon_.”

“You’d be angry,” Avon prompted him.

“Oh yes.”

“Violently so,” Avon said.

“Violently?” Blake said.

“Mm. But turned on,” Avon said, “despite yourself.”

“Really,” Blake said, now attempting to sound incredulous through his arousal.

Avon grinned in the darkness. “Mm,” he said again against Blake’s lips. “You’d want to show me who was in charge.” He found Blake’s hand and brought it up to wrap around both of them. Blake moved his other hand up to join it without prompting, squeezing the two of them with only slightly more than the right amount of pressure. Avon allowed himself a gasp of contentment before he said, “And since I was _clearly_ so desperate for it-”

“Are we back to... fucking some obedience into you?” Blake asked. His voice was catching again now, and Avon would have laughed but he felt breathless himself with Blake’s hands jerking up and down his cock, pressing Blake’s cock against his.

“There’s nothing... wrong with... being consistent,” Avon said. “And... I think I’m stubborn enough that you’d need to teach me to obey you several times before I really got the message. Don’t you?”

“Yes,” Blake said, low in his throat. His hands gripped more tightly.

“Over... several... difference surfaces,” Avon said.

“Yes,” Blake said. “Yes, yes, _Avon,_ ah _, yes-”_ His hand clenched and his body jerked as he came. Avon closed his fingers around Blake’s hands, and used them to pump his own cock again and again, until he came too and could collapse on top of Blake.

“You know,” Blake said, stroking his back, “I’m rather glad I didn’t know actually.”

Avon looked up towards the general direction of his voice. “Would you have found it impossible to respect me?”

“Who said anything about respecting you?” Blake said. Avon began to pull away and Blake rolled him onto his back and kissed him into submission. “No,” he said eventually, as a denial to Avon’s earlier question. “You specified that this was always before a mission. It’s not just the time it would take for me to actually discipline you-”

“What was that?” Avon said.

“All right,” Blake said, “ _attempt_ to discipline you. It’s also that I would have been distracted all the time we were down on the planet by thinking about what I’d done to you, and what it meant. That could have been very dangerous for all of us.”

“I see,” Avon said. “But what if we weren’t on a mission? We’re out in deep space right now. What if we got into an argument tomorrow? What would you do.... now that you know how I feel about them?”

“Avon, are you asking me to _roleplay myself?”_

“That’s rather a crude way of looking at it, but yes, I suppose I am.”

“Well,” Blake said, “I suppose... if you wanted me to, and if you think it’s worth it...” He lowered his voice to the volume that always made Avon shiver, “I could attempt to _fuck some obedience into you.”_

Avon smiled broadly in the dark, knowing that Blake wouldn’t be able to see it and he could do whatever he liked. “Well,” he said, turning onto his side, and settling down to sleep, “you’re welcome to try, of course.”

*

They’d agreed not to use the flight deck, despite most of their real arguments having taken place there, because it was too public. Even if Blake waited until a time when only he and Avon were on watch, it was still very possible that Vila would wander by in search of something he’d lost, or that Jenna would want to check on the navigation systems. Sub-Control Room One was a better choice, even though it hadn’t featured in any of Avon’s fantasies. Well, not any of his _earlier_ fantasies. Now he knew what Blake was going to do to him there, it had begun to make an appearance. Avon had zoned out during breakfast, imagining Blake pressing him back against the crenulated walls, ripping his trousers down... Eventually Jenna had given up on him ever responding, and had just taken the sugar bowl for herself.

They hadn’t agreed a time, because Avon thought he might prefer to be surprised and Blake had been willing to indulge him. Avon had found a series of unimportant things to do in Sub-Control Room One and had been working on them all morning. Lunchtime came and went. Blake smiled at him across the table, ate his spaghetti in what seemed to Avon to be an unnecessarily provocative fashion, and then returned to the flight deck, while Avon returned to the same unimportant, uninteresting tasks.

Perhaps, Avon thought with sudden mistrust at three o’clock, Blake _wanted_ to keep him off the flight deck for some reason. Or perhaps Blake was just doing what Avon had asked of him, and making it interesting. Or perhaps it was a test – to see how badly he wanted Blake, how long he was willing to wait for him.

Pride and paranoia took him back up to the flight deck where he found Vila slumped asleep in his chair, and Blake sitting in the ring of seats in front of the flight controls, frowning down at a datapad.

As he entered, Blake looked up and said “Ah, Avon,” as though they hadn’t arranged to be doing anything today, and beckoned him over.

Avon crossed the flight deck as Blake turned back to his work. He put his hands on the sofa edge, either side of Blake’s shoulders, and leant down. The datapad didn’t look like it contained anything Blake wouldn’t want him to see – just a description of the riots Avalon had started on Cantrar Minor. What he could see were the fading marks on Blake’s skin just under the edge of his shirt from where Avon had bitten him the day before.

“Forgotten something?” Avon asked.

“No,” Blake said, without looking up at him. “Have you?”

“Not that I remember,” Avon said. “Whereas you-”

“You were going to realign the teleport controls,” Blake said without looking up. “Yesterday, I think. It still hasn’t been done.”

“We’re in deep space,” Avon pointed out. “There is no where to teleport _to_ , Blake. I think the teleport can wait-”

“Passing ships,” Vila said from behind them. “We might want to teleport onto them. You never know what might be on them... Teleport in, teleport out. Before the alarms even go off-”

Avon turned to glare at him, but Vila’s eyes were still closed, as though he’d spoken in his sleep. Blake had twisted to look at Vila too, and Avon managed to give him a significant glare before Blake shrugged, as though to imply Vila had a good point, and returned to his datapad.

“And you said you were going to defrag Zen’s harddrive.”

“ _Not now,”_ Avon said, hearing himself sound desperate, but unable to take it back. To his surprise, he found Blake had put a calming hand over his.

“Avon, I’m not going to play with you while there’s still work to be done,” Blake said. “Come back once you’ve finished.” Avon narrowed his eyes and Blake said, “I mean it.”

Avon raised his eyebrows, and turned on his heel.

“What were you playing?” Vila called after him as he left the flight deck.

“Mind your own business,” Avon snapped.

*

It took almost three hours to recalibrate the teleport, which was why Avon had been avoiding the task. That and the fact that he genuinely thought it was pointless to make these adjustments while they were out in deep space. It would also be almost impossible to test whether the corrections had been made successfully. But if Blake wanted it fixed now, he would have it fixed now.

“All right. I’ll come and test it,” Blake said when Avon called over the comm. system to tell him it was done. “And you’d better start looking over Zen’s hard drive. It took him almost thirty seconds to respond to my last command.”

“That’s still quicker than Vila,” Avon told him.

“But not as quick as I’d like,” Blake said. “A delay like that could get us killed, so I’d like you to go and look at Zen now please, Avon.”

Avon cut the connection with a snarl, and stalked off to the computer room. Blake was right, but that that didn’t mean he was interested in spending more of his day completing annoying fiddly tasks. Particularly not when Blake had promised they could do something else.

Fortunately the de-fragging process just needed to be started off and would then largely run on its own. Avon called back up to the flight deck to let Blake know his tasks had been done and they could return to the scheduled business of the day, but Blake merely said,

“The teleport’s still out of alignment.”

Avon scowled into the grill. Blake had never promised to put him and his wellbeing above the revolution, and Avon hadn’t expected that he would, but he _had_ hoped that Blake might rank their relationship more highly than everyday shipboard _maintenance_. “And what do you want me to do about it?”

“Fix it,” Blake said. “Obviously.”

Whatever the fault was, it was something that Avon hadn’t found in three hours of poking the teleport earlier. He might be able to find the error in ten minutes, but it was more likely that it would take the rest of the night. By that time, Avon’s back would ache, he’d be cross and irritable, and _Blake_ would probably be tired after a hard day of lolling around, and want to go to sleep, after perhaps a quick handjob if Avon was lucky.

With that in mind, Avon felt very little like obliging him on the matter of the teleport.

“Unfortunately I’m still engaged on the last little job you dispatched me on,” he said.

But Blake was rather too clever to fall for that one. “De-fragging is an automated process,” he pointed out.

“Not this time,” Avon said. “I’m sorry, Blake. The teleport we cannot use and have no need to use will have to wait. Perhaps I’ll get to it next week.”

It took Blake less than five minutes to walk from the teleport section to the compute room. Avon thought about pretending to look busy, but then decided he couldn’t be bothered. When the door slid open he was lounging back against one of the computer banks, arms folded.

“Go back and fix the teleport properly,” Blake said firmly.

“I will,” Avon said. He smiled, without any warmth. “Next week. Or the week after. Whenever I have nothing better to do. In three months, perhaps.”

“I’d _like_ you to do it now,” Blake said in his fake-reasonable voice. Avon rather liked this tone, but he’d never yet let the fact that Blake’s voice was unbelievably attractive affect his better judgement and he wasn’t about to start now.

“And Servalan would like all of us dead,” Avon said. “Our desires aren’t always good for other people.”

“Would you rather she got her wish than do as I ask?” Blake said. “Are you _really_ that selfish, Avon? If there’s a disaster in the next two hours-”

“I find that unlikely,” Avon said. It was patently ridiculous. Any disaster they might encounter out here would almost certainly not involve the teleport, and the alignment problem Blake had detected must be miniscule for Avon to have missed it. Perhaps whoever next used the teleport would appear a _foot_ away from where they had intended, but even if they were teleporting into a small spacecraft that shouldn’t prove a problem. The system wasn’t so broken that it would let you teleport into a solid object. Thus, it was completely and utterly ridiculous for Blake to be fixated on the-

 _Ah_ , Avon thought as things began to slot into place _. So that’s what this is, is it? But this... isn’t Sub-Control One..._

“Prediction is not immutable fact,” Blake said. “As you yourself pointed out to me not too long ago. Now are you going to walk to the teleport section by yourself, or am I going to have to drag you there?”

 _This wasn’t the deal,_ Avon thought. _But this isn’t normal._ He stared at Blake, who raised his eyebrows, jaw set. _It is very sexy, though._

“You wouldn’t dare,” Avon sneered, half meaning it and half as part of the script Blake had started them on.

Blake’s fingers fastened in the front of Avon’s jacket and tugged him roughly forward. “Don’t tempt me,” he said. His face was close enough to lick, and he was scowling with what looked like very real rage. Avon was still angry himself, even now he’d spotted what was going on. He was torn between the desire to grab Blake and kiss him, and the desire to storm away. Both the prospective fight and the sex were exciting, particularly in combination. Clever of Blake, Avon thought (with bitter admiration and arousal), to not just enact the argument, but to enact the things they were arguing about.

He smacked Blake’s hands away and shoved him hard on the chest, intending to send him backwards towards another bank of the computer. But Blake’s hand came up as he stepped back, and he caught Avon’s right wrist and used it to drag himself back upright. Avon lashed out with his free hand as Blake’s grip around his wrist tightened and twisted it round behind Avon’s back. If this had been a real fight, Avon would have tried to break his attacker’s nose – instead, he raised his other hand to slow his progress and let Blake push him face first into the computer bank. The surface was studded with hemispherical lights and buttons that were uncomfortable against his skin, but not painfully so. Blake’s weight pressed up against his back. They’d fucked in this position before – and it was difficult not to think about that, and the possibility of doing it again now, with Blake’s erection digging into his buttocks. 

 _Keep playing,_ Avon told himself firmly. _Don’t get distracted._

“The moment you let me go, I’m going to hit you again,” he told Blake, and was rewarded with another twist of his arm that pulled his body round to face Blake again. This time, it was his back that thumped against the computer banks. Blake caught hold of his other wrist too and pushed them both up against the wall, level with Avon’s head. Again, he pressed in close, and undoubtedly felt how hard Avon was against his thigh.

Blake made a good attempt at a disdainful sneer, but his eyes sparkled beneath his lowered eyebrows. “You’re _enjoying_ this,” he said accusingly.

“No more than you are,” Avon retorted.

Blake’s eyelashes fluttered slightly as Avon moved his hips forward, but what he said was, “I’m _not_ enjoying the fact that our lives are in danger.”

“Some would say you picked the wrong career,” Avon said.

“ _I_ think I picked the wrong crew,” Blake said. “Anyone else would have seen reason by now, but not you. But fortunately I don’t need you to – I just need you to do as you’re told.”

He let go of Avon’s wrists and grabbed him instead by the studded collar of his jacket, presumably intending to drag him from the room. As promised, as soon as Avon’s hands were free, he shoved Blake backwards. Blake’s grip tightened on Avon’s collar as he grimaced, and then his grip loosened completely as Avon kicked him in the shin.

“ _Ow_ ,” Blake protested irritably, obviously actually in pain. Avon hesitated for a moment, and then Blake smacked him round the face. Not hard, but enough to make Avon stop feeling sorry for him. He gaped in astonishment and simulated fury, and pushed past Blake in the direction of the door, tripped over Blake’s ankle, and let Blake tackle him roughly to the ground.

As he’d been expecting to fall, Avon managed to slap his hands down and roll over onto his back to dispel most of the force of the impact. He probably could have escaped Blake’s grip, but that didn’t seem to be as much fun as the prospect of writhing beneath Blake, who was breathing heavily, like they were having sex already as he tried to recapture Avon’s wrists. He got hold of one, and used it to pull himself further up Avon’s body. Avon accidentally elbowed him in the face, and Blake grunted and forced both of Avon’s arms back down to the ground.

“That _hurt_ ,” he told Avon darkly. His cock was still pressing into Avon’s hip. Avon valiantly fought the urge to groan and say something ridiculous like _Oh, god,_ _take me now._

“It doesn’t seem to have put you off,” he said instead, with another suggestive raise of his hips.

“Oh, I admire persistence,” Blake conceded breathlessly. “What I don’t admire is your attitude towards responsibility. Someone should have taught you better years ago, but since they _didn’t_ -” He released one of Avon’s wrists and reached down for the fastenings on Avon’s trousers.

“ _What_ do you think you’re doing?” Avon spat as he obligingly raised his hips to help Blake get his fingers under the edge of the trousers. _“Blake!”_ he protested as Blake managed to get them down over his erection and down around his thighs. The floor was cold under his arse, but it would have taken more than that to put him off now.

“Teaching you a lesson,” Blake said in answer to his earlier question. “Don’t worry – you’ll like it. You’re a knowledgeable man, Avon. You enjoy the acquisition of data. And you certainly enjoy _this_ ,” he said, squeezing Avon’s exposed cock.

Avon whimpered, struggling to pretend to be uninterested, and Blake chuckled. That helped remind him he was supposed to be angry.

“Let _go_ of me,” Avon snarled.

“No, no – you need to be shown that you can’t act this way and get away with it.” Blake dodged Avon’s elbow successfully this time and rolled him onto his front. A large, firm hand ran over Avon’s arse, and slapped him hard enough to be interesting when he made a token effort to escape.

Avon’s trousers were still binding his legs together and he wasn’t sure he could bear to wait until Blake had yanked them off him. Then there was a sudden loosening around his thighs as though the bindings around them had been cut. That shouldn’t have been possible unless Blake had actually managed to tear a pair of leather trousers in two with his bare hands.

“What the hell just happened?” Avon demanded, only half in character.

“Laser probe,” Blake said, throwing it away across the computer room floor.

“I _liked_ those trousers,” Avon told him, again only half in character. “You’re going to pay for thi- _ah_. Ah. _Blake_ \- Blake.” Blake’s wet finger forced its way into his arse, and Avon heard his voice trail off into an unfeigned groan. Where had Blake got lubricant from? He must have brought it with him. Not that it mattered. God, it felt good. It always felt good to have a part of Blake inside him, but something about the scene, something about Blake’s grip on his wrists and weight on his back, and the way he knew Blake was getting off on dominating him, was electrifying.

“Stop it,” Avon gasped to give Blake something else to get off on. “Blake, please.” Blake let go of his wrists, and Avon felt obliged to bat weakly at Blake’s sides in a futile attempt to push him away. He could feel Blake fumbling with the fastenings of his own trousers. God, any minute now Blake would be forcing his cock in where his finger was currently probing. Any minute now. Avon pushed back on Blake’s finger, which wasn’t nearly enough. “Blake, get off me. Please-”

“Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying this?” Blake said with fake sympathy. There was a clank as his belt buckle hit the floor.

“I’m not,” Avon said. His voice was trembling, and he hit Blake a few more times for the look of the thing. “I’m not. Blake. Get off, ah, get-”

“You’re not a very good actor,” Blake said.

He pulled his finger out and Avon thought for a stupid, sex-fogged moment that Blake might be taking him at his word. Then the damp head of Blake’s cock pressed between his buttocks. Avon pushed back with a gasp and felt the head stretching him as it pushed into the tight ring of his anus. Blake usually opened him up much more thoroughly before trying to insert anything bigger than a finger into him. He’d used a lot of lubricant this time, which made it bearable, but the sensation was still definitely more painful than usual. It made everything feel real. Blake was taking him roughly, without his consent. There was nothing he could do to stop it. It was incredible.

Blake pulled back and thrust in again. Avon whimpered into the floor, all of his concentration focused on the small area of his body that was full of Blake. Somewhere above him he knew Blake was saying something in warm, staggering breaths against the back of his neck, but the actual words could have been anything. He wasn’t able to focus on it until Blake stilled. Blake’s hand took hold of Avon’s chin and turned it towards him, so that Avon’s cheek was resting against the floor.

“Pay _attention_.”

Avon forced himself to laugh. “To what? Your pathetic attempt at sexual humiliation?”

“Oh, I don’t think you find it pathetic,” Blake said. He pulled out almost all the way and slammed in again. Avon cried out against the floor. He could feel Blake laughing breathlessly to himself as he kept up the same devastating rhythm. “I was right,” Blake said in a beautiful, sexual rumble. “You want to submit to me, don’t you, Avon? You want to be good. For me.”

To hell with pretending he didn’t want this, Avon thought. He was going to have to touch himself before he died of frustration. He braced himself against the floor with one hand and tried to push himself up onto his knees, but Blake’s entire weight was on him and Blake caught Avon’s hand easily as he tried to push it under his shuddering hips.

“ _Blake_ ,” Avon protested, hearing his voice tight with desperation, “please.”

“Is this what you want?” Blake asked, and his hand returned and forced its way underneath Avon’s hip. He used that leverage to pull Avon up to his knees and simultaneously further onto his cock. Avon was going to reach back for himself again, but Blake’s hand closed around him instead, the grip familiar but unfamiliarly tight. He began stroking, slowly at first but getting faster. Then his hips started moving as well, sliding his cock in and out of Avon’s arse in time with the movement of his hand. Avon let out a grateful sob.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, yes.”

“I’ll... take care of you, Avon,” Blake told him, panting for breath, close in his ear. “I will _always_... take care of you. If you let me. If you want me to.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Avon gasped. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was saying and how much he meant it, but he didn’t care. They talk properly later when Blake wasn’t fucking him so expertly. “I want you. _I_ want you, Blake.”

“And you’re... going to be...  good for me?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Avon told him.

“And you’re going to fix the teleport?” Blake growled against his ear.

“ _Yes_ ,” Avon said helplessly. He heard his voice catch in his throat, and hoped Blake had enjoyed that. “Yes. Yes, I’ll do anything you say, Blake. Anything you-“

“ _Umbrella_ ,” Blake gasped, and wrenched himself out.

It was too quick and clumsy in Blake’s haste, and it hurt. Panting and confused, Avon collapsed back onto his side, curled around his erection, and tried to ignore the sound of Blake’s breathing behind him. Would it be inappropriate to finish himself off while Blake had a panic attack? Almost certainly.

 _Damn_ , Avon thought trying to steady his breathing. _Damn, damn. Why do you do this to me, Blake?_

It wasn’t on purpose, he reminded himself. Blake wasn’t trying to torture him – he’d just been pretending to. Beautifully, magnificently, _incompletely_ -

Avon groaned and pressed his forehead into his knuckles. The slight pain helped. Slowly he felt his arousal fading and his breathing steady. He tried to pull his trousers up, but they were clearly in two pieces, along with his underwear. Instead he pulled his boots off and the individual trouser legs off over his feet. It helped to have a simple, familiar task to focus on, and by the time he’d thrown the second half of the trousers away, he felt better.

Eventually he felt he had enough control of himself to sit up, and look around for Blake.

Blake was sitting against the wall, his knees up in front of him and his head in his hands. His fingers were clenched in his hair and his shoulders rose and fell, but they weren’t shaking so he wasn’t crying or panicking. He was probably just thinking.

“I thought the safe word was supposed to be for me,” Avon said and was pleased to hear his voice sound light and mocking, as though his brain wasn’t still screaming _Finish what you started._

Blake raised his head. His eyes were large and round and troubled, and Avon experienced a flash of understanding as strong as the one he’d felt while watching Blake standing over Travis with a sharpened stake.

“It’s not real,” he said as gently as he could.

Blake grimaced and looked away. Avon put a hand on his knee, and then moved the hand up to Blake’s face, and twisted his chin round to they were looking at each other again. “Blake – it’s not real.”

“I don’t want to get my way like that,” Blake said eventually.

Avon raised his eyebrows. That was roughly what he’d thought Blake was upset about, but it was still strange to hear it said out loud. “What did you think would happen?”

“I _thought_ you’d refuse,” Blake said accusingly.

Avon smiled. “Yes, that does seem more like something I’d do,” he said, “but for some reason I felt more than usually compliant. I can’t think why.”

Blake rolled his eyes, which meant he was recovering from his moment of self-doubt. Avon let go of Blake’s face, and sat back on the floor, knees drawn up in front of him.

“When you think about it,” he said, “it’s not very different from you shouting at me until I do what you want.”

Blake scowled. “You don’t really think that,” he said. “You _must_ see the difference.

“You’re right,” Avon said. “For a start, I was getting something out of it this time. Usually all I get is earache.

“And a _choice_ ,” Blake persisted. “You’re not afraid of me-”

“Aren’t I?” Avon asked flippantly.

“So, there are no external factors governing your agreement or disagreement,” Blake said, choosing to ignore Avon’s retort as the obvious lie it was, “except perhaps affection and trust, which I’d be foolish not to engage with.” He scowled, clearly disgusted with himself. “Waiting until you’re blissed out on sex and then demanding your cooperation isn’t _much_ better than putting pacification drugs in the water.”

“Yes, it is,” Avon said.

“ _Avon_ ,” Blake said irritably.

“I’m not interested in debating that with you,” Avon said. “I _am_ interested in clarifying whether what you object to is the element of realism, rather than the fact that you were enjoying raping me.”

Blake made a face, which implied he hadn’t even considered that this horrible can of worms might open. “You asked for it,” he said. “You _literally_ asked for it.”

“Yes, I did,” Avon said. “And I enjoyed it as much as you did. I would like to try it again, if you would.” Better, he thought, to press it now than leave Blake time to brood.

Blake hesitated for a moment, and then frowned. “No-”

Avon held up a hand. “Not exactly the same, of course,” he said before Blake could try and refuse properly. If nothing like this ever happened again, if they only ever had passionate and considerate sex again, then he would be able to live with that – he would _certainly_ be able to live with that. But it seemed a waste, given Blake’s natural aptitude for aggression. “We’d need to think of a new scenario. Something I could believe in, but that you could not.”

“Sounds like a rather strange reversal of fortunes,” Blake said with a smile. “You believing in something that I don’t.” In fact, this was rather inaccurate. Avon believed in almost everything Blake stood for, even if he refused to say as much out loud. He also believed in Blake’s ability to change things, which he suspected was something the two of them didn’t always agree on. Not that it would be helpful to admit that now.

“Sounds like you’re considering it,” Avon suggested.

Blake raised an eyebrow, his chin tilting in the same direction. Then he frowned. He hadn’t been truly considering it before, Avon realised, but now he was. Sometimes what Blake was thinking was a mystery to everyone, but at other times he might as well have been describing his feelings because they were written so plainly on his mobile face. Now he was weighing up all the potential losses and gains of such a scheme, and finding rather more items in the latter camp than in the former.

Eventually he said, slowly and steadily, “All right. But not now.”

Startled, Avon laughed. “I wasn’t suggesting we do anything now. I would want to prepare for anything even half as physically demanding.”

“Good,” Blake said. “Then I think I’m going to have a shower and tend to my bruises. Unless you want me to finish you off?”

Avon grimaced. While they’d been talking sensibly, the blood in his cock had flooded back to his brain where it was more immediately needed. Though he assumed Blake could probably get him interested again fairly quickly if he tried, the immediate need was gone and Blake clearly wanted to go. “Too late,” he said.

“Mm,” Blake said ruefully. “For me, as well.” He leant forward and pressed an apologetic kiss to Avon’s lips. “Sorry.” He stood, pulling his trousers up as he did so. “And thank you. I did enjoy that – more than I would have liked.”

Avon smiled to himself as Blake walked to the door and reached for the ruined halves of his trousers. That was the important part. It didn’t matter that this attempt had ended in both of them being unsatisfied – they could try again, because Blake wanted to.

“Oh, and Avon?” Blake said, as he reached the door. Avon glanced up. “Are you going to fix the teleport?”

Avon frowned at him for a moment. Was this still part of the scenario? No, neither of them were interested at the moment and he’d made that very clear to Blake. That meant it wasn’t part of the scenario. Which meant that Blake really wanted the _minute_ , insignificant fault to the teleport corrected.

“ _Yes_ ,” Avon said. “I’ll fix the teleport.”

“Now?” Blake said.

“I _said_ yes,” Avon snapped.

“Thank you,” Blake said, and it sounded as though he meant it. “I’ll bring you some more trousers.”

*

It didn’t take long to think of a new scenario.

In the interests of verisimilitude, Avon had asked Vila for help choosing an outfit. Then, in the interests of not looking like a fool, he’d largely discarded Vila’s suggestions in favour of his own ideas. What he’d come up with was not that different from some of the things he usually wore around the ship, despite the fact that this time he was supposed to be dressed as a Delta whore. Avon made a note to dress more conservatively in the future, but before that he would have this night in which Blake would ‘purchase’ his services, treat him as roughly or degradingly as he wanted, and then hopefully fuck him into the floor while Avon pretended not to be enjoying it.

Then, if it went well, they could do it again later.

They’d come down to a neutral planet for the weekend, so that Blake wouldn’t be distracted by familiar surroundings. Avon had rented a room from what seemed to be an actual brothel with the idea that he could take Blake back there after ‘picking him up’ on the street. It had all seemed excitingly sordid and daring when he’d explained the plan to Blake up on the ship, but the brothel’s proprietor had apparently taken in the trashy way he was dressed and his cut-glass accent and jumped to the correct conclusion about why he was there.

“Don’t worry,” she’d said, tucking Avon’s credits into her cleavage. “We get that all the time.” Then she’d patted him on the cheek and left, missing Avon’s scowl.

Now, several hours later, he was lounging against a wall in the alley in which he’d arranged to meet Blake. He was dressed in a pair of tight, black trousers (not leather, which Vila assured him too expensive to be worn by a Delta, but close enough), black thigh-high boots, and a black sleeveless top that left his arms and neck bare. _Brown would hide the dirt better,_ Vila had said, _and you’re forgetting the sequins,_ at which point Avon had shoved him out of the wardrobe room and barricaded the door.

He was showing more skin today than he would have ever normally have shown to anyone who wasn’t his lover, but the point was that anyone who looked at him was potentially his lover. He was also wearing make-up, which made him feel cheap, but that was also the point.

On his way here he’d seen what looked like somebody sucking a large man off in one of the dark hollows between street lamps, and at least three couples actually fucking in the street. Avon wasn’t normally an exhibitionist, but the idea of letting Blake screw him where everyone could see was strangely appealing. He had an idea that Blake would like it too – a way of showing the Federation that they weren’t afraid. Perhaps he would suggest it.

A large hand settled on his shoulder and Avon looked up with affected disinterest. His eyes widened briefly, and then he got himself back under control and let his eyelashes flutter back demurely.

The man who was appraising him wasn’t Blake, though he was about Blake’s height and build. Not handsome, but not unpleasant to look at. Perhaps ten years older than Blake, but still in the stage where it looked distinguished rather than elderly. And he looked clean, and relatively sober given the time of night. And he was clearly an Alpha or whatever the equivalent here, so he could pay. _It could certainly be worse,_ Avon thought pleased, and then he shook himself. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to start fucking strangers for money.

“You’re new,” the man observed, holding Avon’s chin firmly between thumb and finger. Avon tried not to smack the other man’s hand away. People didn’t touch him like that, unless he’d given them explicit permission either verbally or non-verbally. Blake had non-verbal permission; this man did not. It was both interesting and utterly horrifying.

“To the area,” Avon said. His eyes darted to either side down the alley, but there was no sign of Blake. “Not, alas, to the oldest profession.”

The man rolled a finger over the curve of his bottom lip. “I bet you’re expensive.”

Avon grinned. At least it was obvious. “Very.”

“But worth it?”

“ _Very_ ,” Avon said, with another grin. The urge to repel the company took over the urge to discuss how brilliant he was. “I’m also waiting for someone.”

“Someone who isn’t here.”

“I wouldn’t be waiting for him if he was,” Avon agreed.

“So, you might as well keep busy while you wait for him,” the other man suggested. “Earn a little bit extra- sorry,” he said at Avon’s raised eyebrow, “a lot extra. I won’t take long.” He began fumbling with the fastenings on his trousers. “A few minutes under your mouth and I’ll be gone. Then you can go back to waiting for your friend.”

Avon looked around in bemusement, but there was still nobody around with whom he could share the strangeness of the current turn of events.

“I don’t think he’d like that very much,” he said. That idea was, in some ways, a rather thrilling prospect – it would make Blake very angry, for a start. Probably beautifully, incandescently angry to find Avon sucking someone else off in an alley. Then again, he might also be genuinely upset, and despite the way Avon acted most of the time, he didn’t actually want to upset Blake, unless it was important. He also didn’t want to suck a stranger off in an alley. There were easier and less traumatic ways to make Blake angry, if that was what he wanted.

“He won’t have to know,” his prospective client said with a conspiratorial smile. His trousers were open now, and he reached for Avon’s hand.

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t like it either,” Avon said, yanking his hand away. He looked around again, but there was still no sign of Blake. Strangely enough, the other men who had been lining the walls when Avon had arrived also seemed to have melted away, as though they’d known he might want the protection of witnesses and were unwilling to oblige him.

“You don’t have to,” the other man said. “In fact, I think I’d prefer it if you didn’t. Fight back as much as you want.”

This was so close to Avon’s fantasies about Blake that he actually laughed. Then a hand fastened on his shoulder and shoved him down towards the floor. It wasn’t erotic, but it _was_ exhilarating, like any other battle. The man’s other hand cupped the back of Avon’s head and forced him forwards. Blood roared in Avon’s ears.

His hands were still free – a mistake Blake hadn’t made – and Avon jabbed at out at his attacker’s gut as he went down and then scrabbled at the hand with his nails. From above him there was a winded laugh, which suggested the other man was enjoying his futile struggles.

“Nice try.” The hand on Avon’s hair tightened and tugged him closer. Avon’s nose veered dangerously close to the open front of the trousers.

He stopped resisting the downwards push of the hand on his shoulder and dropped with it. One open hand hit the floor and Avon swung his weight around on that pivot, kicking his legs out in the direction of the other man’s ankles. The hand on his shoulder loosened as the other man stepped back with a muffled curse. Avon rolled his shoulder away, and pushed back up to his feet. As he did so, he forced his hand up. The ball of his hand connected with the underside of the other man’s jaw, forcing his head back. More swearing. Avon followed up with another stab to the stomach. This time there was no laughter, just a groan of pain rather than arousal, and his assailant stepped back. Avon grabbed the disorientated man’s shoulders and slammed his head in the wall. Blake was a seasoned fighter and would probably have seen that coming. This man had been relying on his strength to overwhelm someone else without experience. Stupid, but it could have worked. Perhaps he had even imagined Avon was just playing along.

The man groaned and sank down to the street. His nose looked broken.

“Thank you for the offer,” Avon said, feeling himself grinning although he wasn’t sure why. “But, as I said, I’m not interested.”

He walked away, back towards the town, and there at last, almost twenty minutes late, was Blake.

Unlike Avon, Blake hadn’t dressed up. Blake had offered to wear something more obviously alpha, but Avon had resisted. He didn’t want to be fucked by just anyone. Just Blake. So Blake was wearing his most Blake-like outfit, the large, billowing, green sleeves pooling over his hands, the collar of his shirt open in a deep, attractive vee. Avon’s breathing slowed. He hadn’t even noticed that he was still on edge from his earlier encounter, but now it was all right. Blake was here.

“You’re late,” he said as caustically as he could to hide his relief.

“I didn’t realise you people kept office hours,” Blake said mildly.

 _Ah yes,_ Avon thought. _I’m supposed to be someone else at the moment, aren’t I?_ Even though this had been his idea and he’d been looking forward to trying it out, now that it was happening it felt like they were wasting time. What he wanted was to talk to _Blake_. As himself. He wanted Blake to reaffirm that Avon was his and safe from at least some aspects of the rest of the universe, and reinforce that message with a sustained fuck. Now they had to build up to it from the position of not knowing each other.

“I’ve always thought it was worth keeping a healthy balance between work and pleasure, _even_ ,” he said, “when one’s work _is..._ pleasure.” He shifted irritably onto his back foot, and noticed that Blake was frowning with confusion, rather than annoyance. “I was about to go home. But you could... try and convince me to stay.” He smiled and, when he was sure Blake was watching, licked his lips.

“If you don’t want the business,” Blake said, though he was definitely staring at Avon’s mouth, “I can always find someone else.”

“I’m sure you could,” Avon said, “but you don’t want to.”

Blake laughed, his eyes creasing familiarly, and Avon laughed too. Blake began to walk past him and Avon’s heart quickened, despite there being no real danger that Blake was going to find someone else.

“ _Blake_ ,” he shouted after Blake’s departing figure, and in an instant Blake had returned, his fingers clenched in the fabric of Avon’s shirt.

“How did you know my name?”

 _Ah yes,_ Avon thought, _I forgot again._ _Fortunately Blake is good at improvising._

“Lucky guess,” Avon said, purely to see if Blake would shove him back against the wall. Blake did and the breath hissed out of Avon’s lungs as he laughed. “You’re not exactly keeping a low profile. I doubt there’s one person in this city who hasn’t heard of your fight against the Federation.”

This seemed to take Blake by surprise. His eyebrows rose, one after the other. “Really? What do they think of what I’m doing?”

Avon made a face, and Blake looked briefly guilty. “I don’t know,” Avon told him, rolling his head back against the wall to more effectively bare his neck. “I haven’t taken a survey. But I know what they’d think of what you’re doing now. Couldn’t you find someone willing to spread their legs for the hero of the revolution?”

“I thought I had,” Blake said, letting go of Avon’s shirt and unnecessarily smoothing it down into place again over Avon’s nipples.

Avon smiled at him as Blake met his eyes again. “Someone who didn’t want to be paid for the privilege.”

“Well, maybe I just want to be sure I get what I want from a sexual encounter.”

“And what do you-?”

 _“Total control,”_ Blake said with a darkness that made Avon shiver.

“Well,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, “I can give you that. For a price.”

“Thank you,” Blake said, and pushed down on Avon’s shoulder in much the same way the man earlier had done. Apparently the muscles there had been bruised earlier, because Avon felt a hot spike of unerotic pain as Blake’s fingers clenched in tender spots. Avon gaped noiselessly, and Blake said in a voice that was definitely too concerned for the part he was playing, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Avon told him. Blake scowled and pushed the sleeve of Avon’s vest down over his shoulder to reveal more of the bruise. “Your predecessor was somewhat rougher with me than I would have liked,” Avon explained. “Given that we’d only just met.” He tried to turn what was happening into an excuse to look up at Blake through his eyelashes, but he could tell it wasn’t working very well.

“My what?” Blake said. “My _predecessor_?”

“The man who tried to buy me before you arrived,” Avon explained.  “I turned him down, but like you he wasn’t used to taking no for an answer.”

Blake gaped in a very similar fashion to Avon upon feeling the pressure on his shoulder. “Are you all _right_?”

“Well, of course,” Avon said. “He isn’t. But given that he tried to rape me, I’m finding it hard to be all that sympathetic about his broken nose.”

Blake turned away, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers. Avon had the odd feeling that Blake was more upset about what had happened than he was. He knew he was right when Blake swung back to face him.

“This shouldn’t be allowed to happen,” Blake insisted, and there was some of the same fire in his eyes as when he talked about the Federation. It made Avon instinctively want to fight back or lick him. Fighting back was probably safer since, assuming that Blake was really angry (and he was almost certainly really angry) he would react badly to the idea that Avon wasn’t taking this problem seriously.

“I do apologise,” Avon said. “I’ll try and find a new profession, shall I?”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Blake said. “If this is what you want to do, you should be able to do it without fear of unasked-for molestation.”

“And what makes you think I want to do this?” Avon asked with a roll of his eyes to disguise how much he’d enjoyed Blake saying ‘ _molestation’_.

“Even _if_ you don’t want to,” Blake said. “You should be able to work in an environment where you feel safe, where the law _protects_ you. Or at least where _someone_ can protect you.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Blake, the law doesn’t want to have anything to do with people like me.”

“And that is _precisely_ the problem,” Blake said emphatically. “Even on neutral planets like this, the Federation’s attitude towards sex workers is still in operation. No, no, no,” he protested as Avon made a face, “just _think_ about it. There’s no logical reason that two consenting adults engaging in sexual intercourse,” oh, Avon enjoyed that one too, “should be illegal, simply because money is exchanged. It’s an excuse for leaving you unprotected, for not having to own up to you. Even here. Even _outside_ the Federation.”

“Thank you for your concern,” Avon said, “but I can protect myself. I could prove it to you now, if you insist. Which eye are you least fond of?” He was, by now, regretting the low pain-threshold that had caused him to gasp at Blake’s touch to his injured shoulder. If only he’d kept quiet, he would have been on his knees by now instead of enduring this torturous cross between foreplay and debate.

“What about everyone else?” Blake demanded.

“They could learn,” Avon said.

He’d thought Blake would rail at that one, pointing out that Avon had the advantage of weekly training sessions with Cally, whereas undoubtedly the prostitutes of the lower city had no such thing, but Blake nodded. “Good idea.”

“You want to teach hookers hand-to-hand combat?” Avon said, hoping Blake would hear how ridiculous that sounded.

“Well, it’s a _start_ ,” Blake said furiously. Avon’s eyelashes fluttered shut with frustration. So Blake was right? So what? He usually was, but he usually did it on his own time. “Widespread global change can follow, but we need to start with small, achievable actions.”

“Much like blowing up communication bases, I expect,” Avon said witheringly.

“No,” Blake said. “I realise that a programme of re-education, however limited its scope, is far bigger than a single attack on a discrete location, but it _is_ achievable.”

“You overestimate yourself,” Avon told him. His cock was hardening in his trousers, but he was ignoring it and Blake didn’t seem to have noticed. “Do you have any idea how many people you are trying to reach? Do you know where they congregate? Even assuming you did find them all, do you have any reason to believe they would listen to you?”

“Experience,” Blake said, which made Avon laugh with something he recognised as hysteria and tried to rapidly disguise as disdain. Blake was right, of course. How long had it taken him to gain control of the London? Yes, he’d lost it soon afterwards, but only to come into possession of a far more powerful ship a few hours later. 

Blake caught him by the elbow. “And there must be networks of association. People in the same profession tend to maintain connections with others, even if it’s just to keep an eye on the competition. We could certainly utilise that network – perhaps even formalise it.”

He was getting into it now. What had previously been a nebulous determination to right wrongs was gaining solidarity. Meanwhile Avon’s own plans for the weekend were fading away before his eyes, even as Blake was standing there not a metre in front of him, being clever and irritating and passionate, just in the wrong direction. _Please, just_ _fuck me,_ Avon thought desperately.

“Have you considered a union?” Blake said.

“ _Umbrella_ ,” Avon said, but unfortunately Blake barely paused.

“We can start with the people in this alley. Convince one or two of them that there’s something worth listening to- You did rent a room, didn’t you?”

“No,” Avon said.

“No?” Blake said. “Well, I don’t know where you expected us to sleep. The Liberator’s out of orbit until Monday.”

“I have rented a room, but I’m not going along with this,” Avon said. “You promised me a weekend of debauchery. Most rational people would agree that political unrest and combat lessons for the unfortunate do _not_ fall within their definition of debauchery.”

“So you just want to walk away?” Blake asked hotly. His nostrils had begun to flare, and Avon knew he wasn’t going to be able to walk away. “Even after what happened to you?”

“Nothing happened to me,” Avon said. “I happened to another man’s nose. And yes. I just want to walk away. I didn’t care enough to do anything about this before, and I don’t see why I should care any more now, just because I was almost personally involved.”

“I don’t believe that,” Blake said.

“Don’t enjoy your moral outrage too much,” Avon said. “You didn’t care either before _tonight_.” Blake’s expression twisted briefly into something guilty, and Avon’s eyes widened. _Naturally Blake wouldn’t,_ he thought, but he was angry so he said, “Or did you? Did you perhaps agree to this weekend _just_ so I might be personally involved?”

“ _A_ von,” Blake said reproachfully.

“That doesn’t _sound_ like no,” Avon said.

“ _No_ ,” Blake said, attractively riled now. “Obviously, Avon, the answer is no. If you think I’m the kind of monster who would arrange for you to be attacked, then I honestly don’t know why you’re with me.”

“That makes two of us,” Avon said out of habit and out of spite, although he did know. It was because Blake was clever and handsome and amusing, but more than that it was because Blake cared about things and enough to act on them, immediately and effectively. And he was good – the things he was passionate about were things it was worth believing in. Frustratingly, the very qualities that made him most desirable where the ones that made him essentially unattainable, even now Avon had theoretically attained him. Blake could agree to spend a weekend screwing Avon on a neutral planet, but he couldn’t agree to stop being himself. And if he did, Avon would only want him less.

“Yes,” Blake said, close to Avon’s face, “I admit that I hadn’t thought much about what might be happening to sex workers before tonight. Whenever I thought about the multitude of small injustices perpetuated across the galaxy, I’d remind myself that I had more important things to focus on. Finding a base, destroying Control - and now Star One. If we destabilise the Federation, then we help everyone. So I ignored smaller injustices. Just... for now. I told myself I had to _focus_.”

Avon could have told Blake that it was unnecessary to explain himself any further. He would have gone along with Blake’s plans without any explanation at all, no matter how inconvenient they were, but he liked the sound of Blake’s voice and the way his neck moved, and it seemed those were likely to be the only pleasures he was allowed this weekend, so he let Blake continue.

“I agreed to your plans, Avon because I thought I might enjoy this, but it turns out it was just an opportunity for this so-called smaller injustice to threaten someone I care about.” It shouldn’t have made Avon’s breathing quicken, but it did. “I can actually see this thing that I could change if I put some effort into changing it hurting people. I didn’t plan it this way, but I can’t ignore what’s happened. I _won’t_ ignore it. And if you don’t think that’s a good enough reason to abandon whatever plans we had for the weekend, then I honestly don’t know why I’m with you.”

Avon raised an eyebrow. So Blake had taken him seriously. That was both good and bad. Good because it meant that Blake took his genuine irritation seriously – it would be intolerable not to be taken seriously – and bad because Blake saw that irritation only as Avon being unreasonable.

“Is that a threat?” Avon asked.

“It’s a rhetorical device,” Blake said. “ _And_ it’s the truth. But if you want to think of it as a threat, Avon, I won’t stop you.”

“And you won’t stop me leaving either, I suppose,” Avon said coolly. In contrast to the steadiness of his voice, his heart hammered beneath his shirt.

Blake stared at him for a moment and then stepped aside and gestured towards the alleyway. “No, I won’t stop you leaving,” he said.

Avon tried to consider it, but he’d known he was going to help Blake at the expense of his own plans from the moment Blake had begun to speak. Blake raised an eyebrow, and Avon stared back and eventually folded his arms across his chest.

“You’re not leaving,” Blake observed.

“Obviously not,” Avon said.

“Because you think it’s the right thing to do,” Blake said, “or do you just want me to stop talking?” Even in the darkness, his eyes were beautifully intense.

Avon could feel his own skin thrumming. “Does it matter?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Avon grimaced. “It’s the right thing to do,” he said truthfully, “ _and_ I want you to stop talking,” he lied.

Blake nodded, as though he hadn’t really expected anything else. That meant Avon had talked himself into a corner where he’d had to prove himself for no reason.

“All right,” Blake said. “Let’s go th-”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to give me five minutes,” Avon said and turned away down the alley towards the brick wall that turned it into a dead end. He hesitated with his fingers in the waistband of his trousers. Was he really going to do this? In public? In an alley? With Blake only a few metres away?

“Five minutes? Five minutes for _what_?” Blake said from behind him. Avon’s cock throbbed painfully at the impatient note in his voice.

He shook his head to try and clear the fuzz building up in his brain. _Yes_ , he decided. He was going to have to do this. There was no way he could be useful to Blake if he was constantly distracted by the need to jump him. It would be quick and painless and only slightly embarrassing to take care of the problem now. The trousers he was wearing stretched around his hand as he pushed it downwards and closed his fingers around his aching cock. He had decided not to wear underwear today, so that Blake could more easily ravage him. Well, that hadn’t worked out, but at least it made _this_ easier. He leant heavily against the wall with his other hand to support himself, and began jerking his cock faster. _Get it over with,_ he thought, even as his brain filled with fantasy images of Blake taking him slowly and repeatedly over the next few hours. _Get it over with._

“Avon,” Blake said again. “What are you-?”

“What does it look like?” Avon snarled. He could feel the orgasm approaching. Blake’s impatience was helping – Avon’s body was reacting to it, even as his brain protested that Blake could leave him alone for _five minutes._ He was close, he was very close.

Blake sighed audibly and then there was the sound of his footsteps moving away. “Is this because we argued?” he asked.

“What do you think?” Avon retorted.

“So you meant what you said the other night?” Blake asked. When Avon didn’t answer again, Blake persisted, “ _Every_ argument, Avon? Even after you left Jenna on Cephlon?”

“I’ll apologise when I’m less occupied,” Avon told him, though in fact on that occasion his own guilt had been preoccupying him and he had hardly noticed how attractively Blake was glaring. It had only been later, once they’d got Jenna safely back on board, and before the radiation poisoning had kicked in, that Avon’s brain had conjured up those particular images of Blake, and the exact way he’d said _I think you’d better._ It was now a relatively well-fondled memory. Avon had come to the thought of that moment several times over the course of the last few years.

A hand closed over his shoulder and spun him round. His back thumped against the wall and Avon’s grip on himself spasmed open.

“You’ll apologise now,” Blake told him in a low threatening rumble. “If you know what’s good for you.”

Avon stared at him for a moment. His brain was trying desperately to make connections for him, but his body was screaming _God, Blake is sexy when he’s angry._

 _And he knows I like it,_ Avon realised slowly. _Ah. So that’s what this is. Even after everything._

“I’m... sorry, Blake,” he said thickly and shut his eyes as Blake’s fingers pushed into the top of his trousers. He was probably visibly trembling with arousal and anticipation. Then the trousers were pulled downwards and Avon felt his skin exposed to the crisp evening air. The rough texture of the brick wall behind him rubbed against his arse.

“You’re very lucky I believe you,” Blake said. Avon had time to register that his voice seemed to be coming from somewhere increasingly in the direction of the floor and then Blake’s lips closed around the head of Avon’s cock.

On the two previous occasions on which Blake had given Avon a blowjob, he’d taken his time over it, making a big show of enjoying running his tongue over places that made Avon gasp. This time he was clearly going for speed and depth. It wasn’t exactly better, but it was urgent and intoxicating. Avon scrabbled back at the wall for support, and then abandoned it completely to close his fingers in Blake’s hair.  Blake’s hands were firm around Avon’s arse. He swallowed as Avon came, gasping, into his mouth.

Then he pulled back and carefully pulled Avon’s trousers back up around his waist.

His head resting back against the wall, Avon opened his eyes to see Blake kneeling at his feet. Somehow Blake managed to make what should have been a submissive pose look like a dangerous crouch, like he was about to spring into a fight.

Blake stood in one slow, fluid movement and kissed Avon hard. His lips opened and Avon let Blake’s tongue sweep around the inside of his mouth. Blake’s fingers closed around Avon’s wrist as they kissed, and he brought Avon’s hand to rest on the hard bulge in his trousers.

“My turn,” he said throatily.

Avon laughed, twisting his head so the side of his forehead rested against the wall. “What about the message?” he asked, idly running his knuckles over Blake’s erection. “Shouldn’t we start to spread it?”

“It can wait five minutes,” Blake told him.

“And you can’t, is that it?”

“I could, but I don’t want to. And I shouldn’t have to,” Blake said. He was still trying to do the obnoxious ‘master of the ship and all he surveyed’ voice, but it was getting a bit ragged around the edges.

Avon smiled. “All right then,” he said, unbuttoning Blake’s flies for him. It felt good to have come already and be in control while Blake shuddered and rutted against him. Not as good as surrendering physical control and letting Blake have his way, admittedly, but good. Definitely good. He slid his hand inside Blake’s underwear.

“If you’re sure _this_ ,” he closed a hand around Blake and saw the other man’s eyelashes flicker shut, “is what you want. Because I could suck you off, or you could fuck me-”

“Just _this_ ,” Blake said insistently. “But harder and- _yes_ ,” he said as Avon tightened his grip. “Like that. _Avon_ -” He grabbed Avon’s head with sex-clumsy hands and pulled him forwards, shoving his tongue into Avon’s mouth. Avon kissed back, just about resisting the urge to bite.

He kept up a steady rhythm with his hand as Blake began petting his hair steadily and desperately. He maintained the kiss until he was too close to orgasm to be able to keep concentrating on what his tongue was doing. His hands tightened in Avon’s hair as his body stiffened, and Avon took the opportunity to push his tongue back into Blake’s mouth as he came. Blake made a series of muffled groaning noises that Avon could feel vibrating through his mouth and through the rest of his body, and then Blake pulled back to breathe.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice now back at its usual register. “That was exactly what I wanted.”

“I’m pleased you enjoyed it,” Avon said. “Kissing is extra. It’s too late now, but worth noting for future reference.”

Blake laughed. Avon met his eyes steadily and stared at him to imply his behaviour was unreasonable, and Blake shook his head, still laughing. “I’m not paying you,” he said.

“Actually you only _think_ you’re not paying me,” Avon told him. He wasn’t being entirely serious, although it occurred to him that if Blake did hand over fifty credits he would keep it. “I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear earlier, but it was one of the chief attractions of this scenario.”

“I didn’t bring any money with me,” Blake said. “Sorry.” He didn’t look that sorry, but Avon decided not to hold it against him since instead he looked satisfied and wrung out.

“Then I suppose it will have to be on the house,” he said. “Since you’ve given me little alternative.”

“How generous of you,” Blake said. “But don’t you see Avon, if we manage to change things, then this conversation could go very differently. You’d be able to report me as a non-payer, if I was even able to get to you at all without paying. The law might insist that I pay beforehand, or leave my credit details with you as insurance. Which would also stop me taking any liberties we hadn’t agreed in advance.”

“You don’t need to convince me,” Avon told him. “I said yes. About half an hour ago now.”

Blake nodded. “Right," he said. "Good point. Well, let’s get on with it then.”

*

“So,” Vila said, smirking broadly from the teleport desk when they reappeared, “how was your dirty weekend away?”

“It went very well,” Blake said, “ _thank_ you, Vila.” His tone suggested that a polite person would cease to ask questions at this point. Unfortunately he was talking to Vila. And even more unfortunately, he yawned as he slotted his teleport bracelet back into the table.

Vila grinned. “Avon been keeping you up all night?”

Blake glanced over at Avon with what was definitely a wicked smirk playing around his lips. It was quite attractive, although at this point Avon was too tired to care. Much.

He rolled his eyes and pulled off his own bracelet. “We taught almost three hundred hookers how to knock me unconscious with the least possible force,” he told Vila. “Then we organised the legalisation of prostitution.”

“...I don’t get it,” Vila said. “What’s the punch line?”

“There isn’t one,” Avon said. He unbuckled his gun-belt and dropped it onto the desk in front of Vila. “That’s exactly what happened.”

“In two days?” Vila asked.

“I haven’t slept since Friday,” Avon agreed.

Vila whistled. He had been asleep when Avon had called in ten minutes earlier, and undoubtedly regarded Avon’s sacrifice as one of the most impressive and meaningful of the decade. “You must really love him,” he remarked.

Blake hadn’t quite left the room yet. He glanced back, met Avon’s eyes, and grinned.

 _Obviously_ , Avon thought, feeling his knees go slightly weak. Out loud he said, “Don’t be more ridiculous than you can help, Vila,” and strode past Blake in the direction of the bedroom.


End file.
